


Another Christmas Carol

by RichestButter



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canada, Christmas!, First story, Hetalia, I know it's not christmas but, OC, Original Character - Freeform, Romance if you squint, first time using this site, it is like 12am what am I doing, written 2 years ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichestButter/pseuds/RichestButter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, except with Hetalia. Human AU. Matthew Williams is miserable on Christmas Eve, while his neighbour Alfred is hosting a party next door he was not invited to. However everything he thinks he knows is about to change when he gets an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Visit

Matthew Williams watched the holiday spirit practically ooze from Alfred’s place next door.

‘He’s really gone all out this year’, thought the bitter Canadian as he watched the Christmas Eve party his neighbour was throwing from the window of his living room.

Finishing off his eggnog Matthew contemplated the reasons why he was not currently over there enjoying the party.

He hadn’t been given an invitation  
It was unlikely anyone would notice him anyway  
He didn’t want to spend the whole party being mistaken for Alfred

When Matthew moved to America from a small town in Canada he was shocked to realise that his neighbour Alfred F. Jones looked so much like him, (although as far as he knew they weren’t related), that he was often mistaken for the boisterous American. They shared the same blond hair, their facial features were similar, they were both 19, they both wore glasses, although the frames were different shapes and they were both about 5’10. A main difference was their eye colour, Alfred had blue eyes and Matthew’s were violet, and while Alfred had a cowlick that refused to sit down Matthew had a rebellious curl that stubbornly stuck out from the rest of his hair. Despite being so similar in terms of looks their personalities were as different as green and red. In contrast to the Canadian’s quiet and shy, (although this all changed when the topic of hockey was brought up), personality Alfred was loud and sucked in attention like a vacuum. 

Not everyone appreciated the American’s over the top personality, his two closest friends being a Japanese boy named Kiku and a British boy named Arthur but at least everybody knew who he was. While in Matthew’s case the few times he was noticed it was because people mistook him for Alfred, however he had surprisingly made friends with an arrogant albino named Gilbert who often bragged about his Prussian background, and despite their first meeting when the Cuban man mistook Matthew for Alfred and proceeded to threaten and yell at him, terrifying the Canadian, Matthews now close friend Carlos had later apologised with ice-cream and they had bonded over their mutual love of the cold summer treat.

Although sometimes Carlos still confused Matthew for Alfred which resulted in some less than pleasant situations for Matthew.

Matthew curled into a ball on his old red leather armchair, practically hiding inside his red and white jumper with a picture of a maple leaf on it. He’d tried calling both Gilbert and Carlos earlier in the evening but Gilbert didn’t pick up and Carlos just yelled something about being too busy chasing a certain American with a baseball bat.  
‘Gilbert’s probably enjoying the party next door,’ thought the miserable Canadian, ‘he’ll have forgotten all about me.’ Matthew tried to curl himself into an even smaller ball, trying to block out the depressing thoughts that swirled around his brain.

‘Why would anyone bother with you anyway?’

‘They have every right to chose Alfred over you.’

‘There’s only ever been one person who cared about you.’

No. Not that. Anything but that. Why did he have to think about this today of all days?

‘Now he’s gone.’

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup.

‘He died this very night.’ 

‘He was your only friend.’

‘And you can’t bring him back.’

Suddenly Matthew stood up and yelled, his hands clutched to the sides of head.

“SHUT UP!”

The usually calm man young man collapsed on the floor sobbing as memories flooded uncontrollably into his mind.

He was nine and still living in Canada, and his parents had just divorced. He was a quiet child who shied away from company so he had only one close friend. His best friend Bruce Stone. They were practically inseparable, they had taken a vow that they would always remain friends and be there for each other. It was the sort of cheesy and sweet thing a lot of kids did but they thought nothing could ever break them apart. 

If only that were the case.

One cheerful Christmas Eve was completely destroyed when a reckless Bruce was too eager to get to the other side of the road to see Matthew and exchange presents. The truck driver didn’t even see the unfortunate boy rushing across the snowy street, who was only thinking of Matthew and perhaps the Christmas themed cookies his mother baked this time of year.

Matthew cried for hours. Nothing could console the poor nine year old. His night should have been spent trying to sleep so the next morning would arrive sooner, or trying to figure out who got whom what gift, or excitedly thinking of how his family would get to spend Christmas with Bruce’s family so he could spend his favourite holiday with his best friend. It should not have been spent sobbing about the cruel death of Bruce with his worried parents, who were willing to tolerate each other because of the situation, exchanging looks while trying in vain to comfort him.

Four weeks later his mother moved to America where Matthew’s father was when everyone realised Matthew couldn’t so much as look at Bruce’s house across the road without breaking down again.

Matthew snapped out of his painful flashback and staggered to his feet with tears streaming down his face, his vision blurred he accidently staggered into his glass coffee table. He gasped as the thin, delicate glass turned to splinters under his weight and a line of blood appeared on his palm.

“I hate this stupid holiday! I hate Christmas!” Matthew moaned once again sinking to his knees letting his blood drip to the floor as he let his misery overcome him. 

Drip.....Drip…..Drip…..Thunk…..Scrape…..Drip…..

Huh?

Matthews head snapped up to stare at the door on the far side of the room. He was the only one who lived in his house after his parents left - so what was that sound? Unless that was his cat Kuma…..

Thunk…..Scrape…..Thunk…..Scrape…..Thunk…..Scrape…..

It didn’t sound like Kuma.

The doorknob turned and the old oak door started to open.

…..Creeaakkk…..

Kuma definitely could not open doors.

‘Is it a monster? Is it my landlord? Is it Gilbert? Oh please be Gilbert!’ Matthew was shaking in terror, fresh tears running down his face.

The figure who came through the door was definitely not Gilbert.

The figure who came through the door was not possible. 

He should have been dead.

He was dead.

Matthew didn’t understand how.

But somehow a ghostly figure of Bruce Stone was walking into his living room, glowing strangely, with a chunk of concrete chained to his wrist.


	2. Chains

As he stared at the shocking figure crossing his living room floor Matthew felt a thousand emotions hit him at once. There was no doubt in his mind that the ghost approaching him was his childhood friend, he had the same short wavy hair, which aside from the sickening green glow Bruce was encased in, still appeared to be black as coal like it used to be; he still had the same even features, which suggested good looks in the future after his face lost it’s childish roundness; his eyes held the same cheerful glint, although it seemed significantly duller than Matthew remembered, and they were the same cornflower blue and his clothes were exactly as they were the night of the accident; blue jeans, black snow boots and gre y winter jacket. However the image of Bruce looked... worn. His clothes were more ragged than they were when he died and even if you ignored the glow there was clearly something else different about the rest of him.

Matthew couldn’t help staring and trying to take in every detail, soon enough the deceased Bruce Stone was standing over the frozen nineteen year old crouching on the floor. After what seemed like an age to Matthew who was not sure if he should scream, cry or laugh at the weirdness of the situation. Then Bruce tried to speak.

“Matthew I -” That did it for Matthew, Bruce’s voice pierced his ears sounding exactly as it did ten years ago. Whatever the ghost was trying to say was interrupted by loud sobs from a very distressed Matthew.

“You - y-you c-can’t… H-how?” Matthew had lost control of himself. In his mind he was searching for a logical solution to the situation. 

‘Did I hit my head when I fell into the table? No I would have had to be falling headfirst for that to happen.’ In a daze Matthew rose to his feet and attempted to embrace the ghostly nine year old, however he fell right through Bruce and almost fell over again. A painful reminder that his friend was no longer with the living. As if Matthew needed another reminder.

It really was too much for the poor man who collapsed onto his trusty armchair and held his head in his hands.

Meanwhile Bruce was attempting to get his stunned friend’s attention. Spirits of the dead who remain on the Earth can usually only reveal themselves to the living if they have a good reason to. Bruce was attempting to explain what he was here for, but his friend was seemingly too mentally distraught to listen. 

‘Perhaps I should change form, appearing as a nine year old ghost isn’t helping the situation,’ mused a concerned Bruce.

Using what he had left of his will Bruce Stone forced himself to change into a nineteen and more importantly solid version of himself. 

“Matthew Williams! Pull yourself together and listen to what I have come to say!” Bruce pulled himself up to his full height, (which was now about 6 feet), and bellowed at him. Matthew glanced up and blinked up at Bruce processing what he saw.

Bruce’s glare softened at the look of astonishment that graced the Canadian’s face. He knelt down by the armchair and said in a much softer tone, “now that I have your attention will you please listen to me?”

The Canadian nodded and Bruce placed a comforting hand on his arm. 

“You see this chain?” Bruce asked gently. At this Matthew managed to give a small smile which was a heartbreaking sight on his tearstained face. He rolled his eyes and replied, “I’m not blind Bruce, just a bit surprised my dead best friend decided to come for a visit.” Bruce grinned mischievously, an expression that Matthew remembered well, even though it was on a nineteen year old face.

Taking a deep breath, (for dramatic effect of course since ghosts don’t need to breathe), and hoping Matthew wouldn’t try to make him end up dead a second time Bruce started to explain, “This chain symbolizes my worries I had in life that I couldn’t let go of in the afterlife. This chain weighs me down and keeps me from moving on to the other side. If you don’t let go of the things that trouble you I fear the same thing will happen to you!” 

“But how?! How can I let go of the fact that you’re gone?! And everyone at school ignores me! I can’t -”

“Listen! Tonight you will be visited by three spirits, Christmas past, present and future, I hope that after your experiences with these spirits you will learn that you can let go of the past and learn to be happy with how your life is now!” Bruce stared at Matthew silently pleading with him to understand. Matthew simply stared back with a look that was a mix of ‘you can’t change me’ and ‘how is it possible for you to be here.’

Bruce inhaled deeply and gave his distraught friend what he hoped was a reassuring look.

“The first spirit will be arriving at one a.m,” Bruce gave Matthew the last hug he would ever give him and then tried to leave, only to have Matthew cling to him like a baby monkey.

“Mattie, I have to leave now okay? You’ll be absolutely fine without me.”

“No I won’t be,” the distraught teen sobbed, but he released Bruce anyway.  
Bruce turned away but paused when Matthew cried, “wait!”

Bruce turned towards the distressed bundle of red and white on the armchair.

“What… What exactly is it that still ties you down?” he questioned.

Bruce gave him a sad smile, “my worries about you,” he replied before exiting by simply waltzing through the wall.

Matthew promptly fell asleep, exhausted from what was just the start of one of the most unnerving nights of his life, his last thought being, ‘He always had a thing for dramatic exits.’


	3. Spirit of the Past

He awoke just as the hands of the white round clock hanging on his wall switched to one o’clock, telling him it was time for his appointment with the first spirit. 

As soon as he opened his eyes he spotted a bright, yellow flame out of the corner of his eye. At first he thought his house was on fire, then he turned his head a saw another spirit. Surprising himself by not falling off his chair he examined the unwanted occupant of his living room.

Matthew felt like a knife had stabbed his heart when he realised the spirit strongly resembled the nineteen year old version of Bruce Stone. He had the same handsome features, similar tall strong build, same black hair that fell in waves around his face, same blue eyes and lightly tanned skin. The only difference was the expression on the spirit’s face showed clearly that he was very, very aware of his good looks, which was definitely different from Bruce’s humble, if not sometimes cheeky, expression. There was also the fact that he was on fire. Bruce, as far as Matthew could remember, was rarely on fire.

“‘Sup Mattie!” exclaimed the smug looking spirit as he took in Matthew’s dishevelled appearance, which wasn't surprising considering Matthew had fallen asleep on his armchair with a tear-stained face. 

“I-,” The arrogant spirit began to announce while standing on the window ledge, “-am the Spirit of Christmas Past!” He stood with his hands on his hips as if he was waiting for a round of applause. 

“But you can call me,” he thought to himself for a moment, “St - ah no - Tony! You can call me Tony.”

Matthew stood trying to appear presentable. “I’m guessing you already know who I am?” His mouse like voice in stark contrast to the spirits loud one.

The spirit let out the sort of laugh that tells you ‘this person knows something you don’t, or at least thinks they do.’ “Matt, buddy, I probably know more about you than you do! I’ve seen every moment of your past from the moment you were born!” The Spirit of Christmas Past held out his hand to the shy Canadian, “come with me I have a few things to show you.”

Against his best judgement Matthew hesitantly took the flaming spirits hand prepared to be burned, and was relieved to find out he actually didn’t feel the flames at all.

He was not prepared to be whisked out of the window faster than the speed of light. 

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” Matthew felt like his face has being flattened into a pancake.

“Dude, chill! Just relax and enjoy the ride!” Matthew would have found it hilarious that a fire spirit just told him to chill but the pure terror was making it difficult to find humour in anything.

It was unlikely it was possible for Matthew to shut his eyes so he was forced to see the nauseating whirlwind of scenes flashing all around them. Several of the scenes were more distinct than the others which were passing by too quickly to make out. Matthew realised they were scenes from his past, his 10th birthday, moving to Texas and even getting Kuma were all scenes which seemed to be flinging themselves at his eyeballs.

Suddenly they screeched to a halt and Matthew gasped because he was out of breath for the crazy ride, but also because of his surroundings.

He was standing next to the spirit in front of his old home in Canada, he instantly recognised the white exterior walls and red roof of his humble Canadian home. The house and the small patch of lawn in front of it were covered in crisp fresh snow, although for the moment it was sunny you could tell the snow hadn’t been there long. However, Matthew felt the cold as much as he had felt the flames on the spirit’s hand.

“Nice place,” said spirit commented. After he received no reply he turned to look at his companion to find poor Matthew lying face-down in the snow.

“Dude, what’s the matter? Do you get time travel sick or something?” Tony the Spirit of the Past knelt down by Matthew.

“Did you see something traumatising in the flashbacks? Yeah sorry, it’s a bit of a problem, happens quite frequently, I remember this one time - oof!” The shocked spirit fell backwards as Matthew suddenly punched him in the face.

“Hey dude, this isn’t time for messing aroun -” the spirit cut himself off when he saw the expression on Matthew’s face. The normally calm Canadian wore a look of rage so intense it could melt the snow they were sitting in.

“I’m NOT messing around! Look here, tonight I’ve been visited by my dead best friend, forced to question my idea of reality, been forced to remember the day my best friend died and I top of it all I’m dragged to my old place, next door to where my dead best friend used to live FYI, by some full of himself ‘spirit’ who’s acting like this is all a big joke and happens to resemble, MY DEAD BEST FRIEND!!!” The Canadian had climbed to his feet during his rant and was standing over the spirit who annoyed him so much who -

was calmly inspecting his nails with nothing but an infuriating amused expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I think you forgot to mention your dead best friend in that adorable little spiel there,” hearing this Matthew turned beetroot and tried to pick up a snow shovel lying near by with the intention of at least decapitating the fiery spirit.

“I wouldn’t bother with that if I were you,” ‘Tony’ sang lazily climbing to his feet, it takes quite a bit of concentration to physically touch things in the past.”

Practically growling by now Matthew managed to kick away the shovel and yelled, “WILL YOU PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT THE MAPLE IS GOING ON HERE?!?”

At this sudden outburst the spirit’s laid back demeanour changed completely. His eyes widened and he let out a sound that made Matthew want to smash his head into a wall.

“Awwwwww!! Mattie that was absolutely adorable!! Are you always this polite when you’re mad? You actually said please, and do you usually say maple like that? You’re such a stereotypical Canadian!”

The enraged Canadian decided now would be an appropriate time to strangle Tony, if he couldn’t use anything else to kill him. 

“Alright-I’ll-explain-just-don’t-kill-me-you-passive-aggressive-psycho!” Tony managed to gasp out.

Matthew reluctantly let go and sat down, glaring at spirit of the past.

“As you know I am a spirit of the past, I have been negotiated with by Bruce Stone to show you parts of your past that will help you understand, and with the help of the other information you will be receiving, move on now and in the afterlife. In addition, spirits of present and future have also been negotiated with … blah blah blah and so forth,” the spirit drawled in a bored voice, “didn’t Bruce more or less tell you this himself? Now if you would kindly come with me you can actually proceed to discover why I have brought you here.” With that the spirit turned on his heel and strode towards the snow covered house.


	4. Realisation

They were standing in Matthew’s old living room. The time of year became apparent to Matthew as he took in the green Christmas standing proudly in the centre of the room with bundles of brightly wrapped packages underneath it. The old chandelier they got from an aunt illuminated the room, revealing white walls, light grey carpet, a long dining table at end of the spacious room and comfortable chairs and a worn couch surrounding a red brick fireplace at the other. The room was surrounded by lengths of tinsel and a wreath hung above the unlit fireplace. The place seemed to be waiting for the festivities that would unleash the merry potential of the room.

Sunlight crept through a large window on the other side of the room as somewhere a clock chimed six am.

“What year is this?” Matthew asked with a hint of worry entering his voice.

“Relax, it’s a year before ol’ Brucey said goodbye,” the relaxed spirit reassured him. 

‘That means I should be waking up about now … I think. I suppose I kind of blocked out all my memories from this place after Bruce … I honestly don’t remember much from this time except for things about my friend and some things about school. I guess that makes sense, it was years ago.’

Just then footsteps came from the hall behind them and two figures came running toward Matthew and Tony. Matthew was momentarily worried about creating a time paradox by causing his younger self to see him, but his worry turned to shock when 8 year old Matthew ran right through him.

“In case you haven’t guessed,” explained Tony, trying not to laugh at the expression on Matthew’s face, “they can’t see, touch or feel us. Or smell us. Or -”

“Yes, okay, I get it!” Matthew snapped, very tired of the spirit’s personality. 

The two children were kneeling next to the tree, staring eagerly at the pile of gifts waiting to be unwrapped. The fact Matthew couldn’t figure out who the other person was started to worry him. How could he forget someone who had apparently stayed in the same house as him?

The mystery person looked so similar to young Matthew that he began to wonder if he was seeing double. He knew he’d seen the boy somewhere before, but when he tried to remember it felt like there was a gap where the information should be. 

“No opening anything until I get down there okay!” called a voice from the hall behind Matthew. Turning around Matthew saw that it was a younger version of his mother. He felt a heaviness settle in his heart when he saw bags under her eyes, looking back he realised a long time ago that his mother was stressed out about the divorce, but always managed to pull it together for Matthew. She did look a bit younger, her light golden wavy hair showing no sign of grey and her blue eyes still had a shine in them that rarely surfaced when Matthew went to see her since moving into his own place. When she entered the room the two young boys both lept up to give hug her slim frame, the familiar stranger practically shouted ‘Merry Christmas!’ while Matthew mumbled it in barely a whisper. She hugged them back, and gave them strict instructions to open one, and only one, present.

As the children scampered towards the tree in excitement Matthew looked on with an expression of nostalgia, from remembering the way things were, and confusion. Why did the spirit show him this? And who was the other child whose name seemed to be just out of reach? Before seeing this he could only remember his mother and himself at home on Christmases. Except for the times when Bruce came over… Matthew shuddered at the painful memory. He closed his eyes and shook his head to try to focus again.

When he opened his eyes he was in a doctor’s office.

Blinking in confusion he turned to Tony in with a questioning expression but the fiery spirit just put a finger to his lips and pointed to the other two occupants of the blindingly bright white room and mouthed ‘pay attention’.

Next to a kind looking middle-aged male doctor sat Matthew’s very own mother. The doctor was trying to comfort the distressed woman.

“Trust me mam, this is for the best. There may be some side effects such as forgetting key details from his childhood, his memory may simply refuse to acknowledge certain things, but his brain will create plausible scenarios in place of the memories and I promise this will help his healing process.”

“But do we really have to move so close to his brother when he won’t be able to see him?”

“I only suggest America because it’s the only place that you have any family connections, it’s hard enough moving to a new country, at least this way you have someone nearby to contact. And as I explained, Matthew’s memories of Bruce will be closely linked with Alfred because the three of them were as you said, ‘inseparable’. Matthew will have an easier time letting go if he doesn’t see, or perhaps remember his brother”.

It was after Bruce died and Matthew’s mother took him to a doctor because she was so worried. Throughout the exchange the colour had gradually drained from Matthew’s face. Words kept swirling around his brain like a tornado as he tried to make sense of the situation.

Then something snapped and Matthew gave a loud shout and cradled his head in his hands as memories flooded his brain. How had he managed to forget about his twin brother Alfred? The very same Alfred he was living next to now! After his parents divorced Alfred went to live with his dad in America and kept the last name Jones, while Matthew stayed with his mother in Canada and took her maiden name - Williams. The pieces he didn’t even know were missing started to fall into place, when they moved he never heard from his father again and for some reason at the time he didn’t question it. This explained why he and Alfred looked so similar! Why hadn’t he thought about the fact they had the same birthday? And most importantly he had forgotten that it was the three of them that always hung out, although Alfred got along with everyone back then so Bruce and Matthew were closer.

It was all too much for poor Matthew who’d had enough shocks for one night. The last thing he heard was a certain concerned spirit’s voice calling his name as the white room turned to black.


	5. Spirit of the Present

He woke up in his armchair curled up like a cat with his head in his hands.

Looking around the room in a daze Matthew tried to grasp his surroundings. Then he caught a glimpse of his reflection and he froze.

… He did not have a mirror in his living room.

Slowly standing, Matthew stared at … himself. The figure on the other side of the room was his mirror image, except instead of the comfortable sweater with the Canadian flag on it the ‘other Matthew’ was wearing a white shirt and suit pants, but was oddly enough barefoot, as if the situation wasn’t weird enough already.

Without a word Matthew’s doppelganger stepped towards Matthew so they were face to face and then gripped his chin and harshly turned his face to the side and smirked as he apparently examined him.

“Well, would you look at that. You really do look like your brother. I bet I could have appeared as him and you would still have thought I was you. I must say though, you’re kind of pathetic compared to him aren’t you?,” Matthew came to the conclusion that his mirror image, who was now circling him making him feel like a fish surrounded by a shark, must be the second spirit - the Spirit of Christmas Present? But why would Bruce think that this guy could help him let go of the past?

The spirit continued to taunt him while circling closer, “-I mean, what are you good for really? You’re sitting here at home moping while your friends are at your brother’s party. I wish someone had employed me to help out your brother instead of you - however he either fixes his own problems or he doesn’t let them get to him!”

The cruel spirit stood in front of the shaking Canadian and started to raise his voice until he was practically shouting, “How exactly am I meant to take you seriously? Boo hoo, your best friend died. You know most people would be upset, but who MOVES TO A DIFFERENT COUNTRY and then FORGETS about HIS OWN BROTHER because he can’t handle being all alone. Did you hear me? Stop covering your ears with your hand’s you little coward. Maybe you wanted to forget about your brother because you couldn’t stand he was so much better than you, dad’s favourite remember? Are you listening? I said ALFRED JONES IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN MATTHEW WILLIAMS THE PATHETIC CRY BABY WHO’S CURLED UP ON THE GROUND BECAUSE HE CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!” The spirit leaned over Matthew who was trying in vain to get away from his biting words.

The nightmare crouched by the terrified nineteen year old and spoke in a menacing whisper that was just as terrifying as his shouting, “How about we go and see how everyone is doing next door huh?” The spirit’s face curled into a terrifying smirk that made Matthew wonder how his own face could turn into something like it.

The Spirit of the Present yanked Matthew’s hair so hard he gave a pained yelp and it seemed as though the spirit had pulled him from his house into the next. They were now looking down at the party scene in the house next door.

The place was extravagantly decorated with all sorts of Christmas themed objects, such as a whole sleigh complete with reindeer light display outside, Christmas trees in almost every room and tinsel throughout the whole house - even in the bathrooms. There were at the very least 50 guests scattered around the American’s large house and Matthew soon spotted many people he recognised from around school. No matter their opinion of Alfred, almost everyone who could showed up for his parties. 

The were currently looking down from the roof in the dining room, there seemed to be a gap in the ceiling, but Matthew now knew better than to think anyone who happened to be looking up would see it.

“Look,” the spirit grabbed Matthew’s chin again and pointed him in the direction of the one and only Alfred Jones. Alfred was the centre of attention, although that wasn’t unusual. Matthew ignored the spirit as it whispered more insults into his ear and scanned the floor for Gilbert or Carlos and although he spotted Carlos being tied up by Kiku and Arthur to ensure Alfred’s safety, (it wasn’t the first time that had happened), he failed to spot Gilbert anywhere. That was until the spirit hit him roughly on the back of the head and spat out, “Look who’s talking to golden boy.”

To Matthew’s surprise Gilbert appeared seemingly out of nowhere and dragged Alfred away from the crowd. The scene Matthew and the spirit were watching changed in a sickening whirlwind so they were now looking down on Gilbert and Alfred in an poorly lit empty room.

“I thought you were going to tell him tonight?!” Gilbert hissed at the sheepish looking American.

“I was! But he didn’t show - mmphh!”

“Not so loud! Eventually you have to tell Matthew that you’re his brother! He deserves to know, even if he doesn’t believe you at first!”

Matthew’s eye’s widened. So Gilbert was in on it too? Who else knew? And how had they managed to keep it a secret from him all these years?

With all these thoughts tumbling through his head Matthew was whisked back to his own house by the spirit who then practically flung him back onto his chair.

“Have fun relaxing until Future gets here. Then you’ll really have some fun!” The spirit, who now seemed more like a demon to Matthew seemed to be turning to grey as he spoke. The spirit cracked a smile that would have put a madman to shame and disintegrated into an ash-like substance that left no trace the monster had ever been there.

Matthew was tired of being tired and confused and let his consciousness disappear as quickly as the spirit had.


	6. Spirit of the Future

“Have fun relaxing until Future gets here. Then you’ll really have some fun!”

The demon’s words haunted Matthew as his eyelids fluttered open. He’d had enough of everything and he just wanted to go back to sleep. However he knew that if he could just get through this last encounter the night’s worries would be over, although he had a feeling they would haunt him for a long time.

Sitting up properly Matthew instantly spotted the last spirit. The ominous figure in front of Matthew on the other side of the room wore a black cloak, which was like something out of Lord of the Rings, and carried a silver staff that practically glowed in the moonlight that shone in through the window behind the spirit.

The spirit said nothing, choosing instead to simply reach out a pale hand that, thankfully, appeared completely human. Matthew sighed, hoped that he wouldn’t be emotionally crippled, and walked over to the spirit to take his hand.

Instead of a racing whirlwind like the trip to the past had been the journey to the future was like sinking into a hot bath. Matthew felt as though he was falling through the middle of a marble pillar that was coloured in greys, creams and soft blues.

When they apparently arrived at their destination all Matthew could process for a moment was grey. After his eyes adjusted to the dull light he realised he was in a concrete cell. And it wasn’t just his present self, an older but unmistakable Matthew Williams sat in the middle of the cell with a broken expression on his face. He wore baggy pale blue trousers and a plain white t-shirt that may have once fit but he appeared to have lost a lot of weight. 

Unexpectedly the older Matthew’s head snapped up and he looked up at where the spirit and the Matthew of 2015 stood. Matthew felt as though his older self was staring directly at him, but that shouldn’t be possible. No one could see the him and other two spirits so why would that change now?

Matthew’s older self continued to stare at them for a moment and then smiled manically and began to speak.

“You’re here now aren’t you,” his voice was even more quiet then it was now and had a slight tremor to it, “I remember from all those years ago, it must be now.”

Suddenly his eyes widened so they had a manic quality to them. He started arguing to himself switching from disagreeing with the existence of his younger self and the spirit to arguing they were real and he had to warn himself about something.

“No they can’t be there Peggy said they were only in your head.”

“But everything’s the same! I have to warn me!”

“There’s no one there. It’s all in your head. This is how you got sent to the Peace Centre in the first place remember? You need to calm down.”

“No no no, I have to warn me I … I M-I … MATTHEW!!!” The man screamed completely falling apart.

“You have to let go and move on! You can’t let this haunt you! DON’T TELL ANYONE ABOUT THE SPIRITS! Or they lock you up like me, your only world will be whites, greys, pale blues and pinks, because those are the colours they consider ‘soothing’. Because the crazy people can’t handle bright colours! Crazy people … I’m one of the crazy people … Of course I am I’m talking to an empty cell.” With that final outburst his energy seemed to dissipate and the man curled into a ball in the middle of his cell and stayed silent aside from the occasional giggle or sob.

Matthew stared in shock at his older self. Was this really the future he was going to be forced to endure? Locked up in a … Peace Centre for the rest of his life?

“That’s not really going to happen … is it? I can do something to stop this happening, right?” Matthew wasn’t expecting a reply since the spirit hadn’t said a word so far. The figure in the black cloak simply touched Matthew on the shoulder and they were comfortably floating back to the present.


	7. Outcome

Matthew was wrong to presume that he was going home.

He supposed they were still technically in his house but it wasn’t 2015.

For the fourth time that night Matthew was looking at a different version of himself, this time he was only slightly older, maybe 24? And he was joined by an older version of Gilbert as well.

Matthew looked at the spirit in confusion, how could this be his future if they were just in his future? Unless this was sometime before the ‘Peace Centre’ but he didn’t look much older in the cell then he was now.

To Matthew’s shock the spirit answered his unasked questions.

“The future is not like the past or the present. You can never be certain of which version you are going to see until it comes to pass. I showed you the last future so you could see what would happen if you still refused to let go of the past after being visited by us spirits. In this version of the future, it is as if you were never visited by us,” the spirit spoke in a clear, emotionless tone.

Nodding to signal his understanding he turned his attention to the scene in front of him.

The other Matthew and the other Gilbert were sitting at Matthew’s pale marble kitchen countertop on dark wooden stools. They were eating breakfast (pancakes) as it seemed to be early morning. Matthew’s expression was blank and empty while Gilbert looked angry.

Matthew watching the scene couldn’t think of a single time he and Gilbert had been upset while eating pancakes.

The albino suddenly slammed his fist down on the countertop with a yell of frustration.

“I don’t see what you’re getting so upset about. I can choose what to do with my own time,” stated Matthew in a tired voice.

“Don’t see what I’m getting so upset about!? For crying out loud Mattie! You don’t do anything but mope around the house these days! You’re depressed and you need to go see a doctor … or something I don’t know! I’m no expert on these things!” 

The Matthew observing the situation frowned. Gilbert had never raised his voice at Matthew out of anger before. Sure, Matthew had heard him mad before, but it was never directed at Matthew. It was unnerving hearing the angry German-sounding voice aimed at him, even when it was a different version of him.

At Gilbert’s outburst the other Matthew simple continued staring at the marble countertop, his best friend’s words apparently having no effect on him. Seeing this the enraged Gilbert left in disgust shouting, “call me when you get your head sorted out!” over his shoulder.

It was a full ten minutes until Matthew moved.

He slowly stood up, leaving the rest of his pancakes uneaten, and walked to the front door. His expression was one of determination, but when he opened the door it turned to shock and horror. 

Because the pristine snow was stained with the sickening crimson of Gilbert’s blood.

The man lay face-down in the middle of the road, his pale skin and silver hair almost blending in with the snow. Matthew watched the scene, he saw himself break down at the sight of his friends corpse, he saw the driver of the truck that hit him rush to the body in case there was a chance he was still alive. There wasn’t ever a chance. Matthew felt numb, he couldn’t process what was happening. The truck driver was rapidly explaining to the ambulance over the phone that, ‘the kid came out of nowhere! He seemed to be in a hurry! I didn’t have time to hit the brakes!’

His best friend was dead. He was dead because Matthew had been moping over his past too much. This could not happen. He would not let this happen.

He turned to the spirit, “I’ve seen enough.” His voice was steady and he calmly reached out a hand to the spirit who took it.

Matthew could feel wind at his back. It grew stronger until the world around him seemed to blow away. The spirit’s hood was flung back and Matthew gasped as he took in the pale face, silver hair and red eyes of his friend Gilbert. But the spirit wasn’t his best friend, just an imitation. His eyes held no light, and his face looked frozen like a mask. The wing blew faster and it seemed Matthew and the spirit were in the eye of the storm. Possibilities whirled around them, things that may or may not come to pass.

It all depended on how Matthew played his cards.


	8. Happy Holidays

Red armchair. Cosy living room. Daylight creeping in through the window. And thankfully no spirits. Matthew sighed as he examined the room around him and closed his eyes thankful the extraordinary adventures had apparently stopped.

Wait.

What about Gilbert?

Matthew was suddenly filled with a need to see his friend and make sure he was okay. The logical part of his brain knew that Gilbert was probably safe at home but after everything the night had thrown at him he needed to see someone familiar. He raced to find his cellphone, (which after 10 minutes of panicked searching he found in its charger), and clumsily dialled Gilbert’s number.

“Uggh … Matt? You know it’s like 6:30 right?”

Matthew momentarily felt guilty, but the moment passed when he realised what the time really was.

“Gilbert it’s 8:00. Where are you?”

“Give me a minute,” Matthew could hear scuffling sounds as the disorientated man tried to get his bearings, “... I appear to have made my way to the north pole.”

“...”

“Okay fine, I’m in the sleigh of the gigantic light display Alfred set up, I must have passed out here sometime last night. Is there a reason you’re calling me before midday when you knew I’d been partying all night? And why weren’t you here last night? You know Alfred doesn’t care who shows up as long as you don’t trash the place.”

Matthew winced as he thought up a highly skilled strategic way to avoid the question.

“Uh … Reasons ... I’m going to come over to see you okay.”

“ ‘Kay …”

Matthew had a feeling when he arrived he would find a sleeping Gilbert who had almost no memories of their conversation.

 

When Matthew arrived he found a sleeping Gilbert with almost no memories of their conversation.

“Aargh! What?” Gilbert was awoken by his best friend flinging himself on top of him and muttering something along the lines of, ‘oh maple thank goodness you’re alive!’

“I missed something didn’t I?”

Matthew quickly stood up with an embarrassed expression.

“I was just … really glad to see you,” the Canadian looked so adorable Gilbert instantly forgave him for waking him up twice before it was 12:00.

“Hey dudes! What’s goin- oof!” Alfred had decided to investigate Gilbert’s earlier yell, but while he was armed, (with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pyjamas and a spatula), and prepared to battle whatever thug was torturing his guest, he wasn’t expecting to be tackled into a hug by Matthew Williams.

Gilbert was seriously confused at this point, and he thought waking up in a sleigh complete with reindeer was confusing enough. Alfred however had a small hope in the back of his mind that maybe Matthew had regained his memories. It was a hope he’d kept to himself, he didn’t even tell Kiku or Arthur who, along with Gilbert who figured it out due to finding a photo album by accident at one of Alfred’s parties, were the only ones outside of family who knew about Alfred’s relation to Matthew.

“...Did I wake up in an alternate dimension?” A voice questioned from behind Alfred. The three turned, (Matthew letting go of Alfred), to see a frowning British boy with short blonde hair and large eyebrows staring at them.

“ ‘Sup Arthur!”

“Alfred explain. Does this mean Matthew has his memories back?”

Alfred laughed unsteadily, “Haha! Dude I have NOOOO IDEA what you’re talking about!?! What memories??? Haha-”

“...Actually I do have my memories back,” Matthew’s quiet voice somehow cut through the American’s incredible loud one for once and everyone stopped and looked at him in shock.

After a minute of tension thicker than maple syrup Alfred let out a deafening ‘WOOHOO!’ and proceeded to crush his twin in a smothering hug.

“Alfred you hamburger loving idiot! Let go of him before he runs out of air!” Arthur snapped when Matthew started turning purple.

Alfred reluctantly let go and turned to talk back at his friend.

“Hey! At least I don’t have imaginary friends!”

“You were cooking them for breakfast this morning! And are you seriously trying to call me childish when you’re wearing those pyjamas?”

Gilbert decided this would be a good time to intervene.

“Hey I know! Let’s all have breakfast together to celebrate the miracle that is Matthew William’s memory!”

“...That’s not actually a terrible idea. Even if all we have is hamburgers.”

“Totally awesome suggestion dude! Let’s go twin brother of mine!”

“Wait Alfred, I can walk you know!” Alfred had decided it would be a good idea to carry his brother over his shoulder to breakfast. Gilbert and Arthur followed, Gilbert laughing his head off at the American, while Arthur just face-palmed at his over-enthusiastic friend.

They arrived in the kitchen to find Kiku minding the hamburgers. He looked up in surprise at the odd sight.

“Hello Alfred, Arthur, Matthew, Gilbert. Might I ask what’s going on?” The Japanese boy asked, hoping there was an at least partially rational explanation.

“Morning Kiku. Sit down and I’ll try and explain what’s going on,” Arthur spoke gently to his friend, trying to make the situation sound as normal as he could he briefly explained while everyone sat down for breakfast hamburgers at the dining table surrounded by glitter from last night. 

Matthew smiled down at his hamburger. He felt comfortable and happy. Was this what Bruce and the other spirits ment by ‘letting go’? He took in the conversation around him and joined in.

“That is quite incredible. So you just woke up this morning and remembered everything?”

“Something like that yeah.”

“Cool.”

“You know these hamburgers aren’t actually terrible.”

“Thanks eyebrows!”

“Watch it! And how have you eaten 4 hamburgers already?!”

“We’ll all have to help out with the cleaning - Gilbert you can sweep.”

“That’s it! I should have known waking up somewhere that resembled Santa’s home was a bad omen!”

“Does anyone have any maple syrup?”

“Wow and I thought -munch- my eating choices were weird!”

“Alfred that’s my burger!”

“Oops.”

As Matthew bit into the world’s very first maple flavoured hamburger he grinned. He realised he could let go and be happy. He had his friends - and now his brother!

He was going to be okay.

The End

...

Epilogue

...

Carlos woke up tied up to a chair in what looked like a basement. He spotted the baseball bat he tried to use on Alfred leaning in a corner of the damp room … excellent … now if he could only get out of these ropes …


End file.
